Episode 26a,VS7.5 - Little Feat
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: Harry has a way to win, Miral takes a walk.


Voyager Virtual Season 7.5  
  
episode 26a  
  
Little Feat  
  
In the Trenches Interlude  
  
by Janet and Christina  
Introduction   
Sometimes life on Voyager can be almost too exciting. At others,   
it can consist of the following of long-established protocols and   
routines during shifts, while off-duty life in the Voyager   
community flows on as it would just about anywhere. As Voyager   
comes ever closer to home, however, even the routine becomes   
precious . . .   
This week's story is a short slice of life from one evening   
in the life of the crew of Voyager. The next offering, to appear   
in two weeks, is "In the Trenches," a regular-length episode   
which concerns an away mission that promises to be as routine as   
they come.   
  
  
Little Feat   
by Christina and Jamelia   
  
"I'm Gary Jones," the tall blond human enthused from   
the big holographic screen over the bar.   
"And I'm M'Tak," the Klingon said with a loud roar.   
"Welcome to the FBC broadcast of the Galactic Kal'toh   
Championships on Vulcan. Gary, over to you."   
"The excitement is palpable," Gary said as the camera   
panned past the few Vulcans calmly mulling about. "This   
once in a decade event brings top Kal'toh players from   
around the galaxy. Over the past seven weeks, all   
but two have been eliminated."   
"Seven weeks ago--" M'Tak cut in as the image switched to   
a Ferengi and a Bajoran player studying the Kal'toh shape   
in front of them. "The elimination rounds began. Representatives   
from twenty-five planets and thirty-six Kal'toh clubs began   
playing this exciting, yet so logical game." M'Tak placed a   
microphone in front of a short Vulcan in shiny forest-green   
robes. "So, how do you prepare for a game?"   
"I meditate for several hours," the Vulcan said slowly,   
then he moved away.   
"That was the reigning champion, here to defend his crown, Gary."   
"Many exciting games have been played over the past seven weeks.   
We have put together highlights of the most spectacular..."   
"Computer, mute." In a soft voice that was almost a whisper,   
Harry added to Tom, "I thought you said you'd received the   
tapes of the entire tournament. This looks like we only got   
the final."   
Tom Paris, dressed in a decidedly loud Hawaiian shirt, sat   
across from the more sedately-garbed Harry Kim. Tom shrugged   
and murmured absently, "I asked for them all, Harry, but mostly   
they sent tapes of the last Olympics. At least you've got   
this one to study." Tom swiftly worked the controls of the   
PADD in his hand for several more seconds before a thoughtful   
expression spread over his face. "I wonder if anyone would   
want to place a bet on the outcome?"   
"Are you kidding? Everybody will be sure you saw the tapes   
beforehand."   
"True, but I don't have to bet myself. I can just act as the   
betting agent."   
"I thought you gave up such nefarious bachelor pursuits since   
you got married and had a baby," Harry noted.   
"Gambling has a long and illustrious history, Harry. I don't   
recall that marriage and fatherhood have ever been an impediment   
for a man to indulge in it every now and then--as long as it's   
kept within reason, of course. And by the way, B'Elanna had the   
baby, Harry. I was only there to catch."   
"That's not quite the way I heard it," Harry said, as Tom's smile   
broadened into a smug grin.   
"Maybe it was a little more than that," Tom agreed, as he glanced   
around the holodeck. At 1500 in the afternoon, few of the crew   
were observing the announcers' play-by-play. While Neelix's   
Resort had never been as popular as Sandrine's, the program still   
was set to run at least three times a week, mostly during the day   
shift. Volleyball on the beach was universally acknowledged by   
the crew to be a more satisfying game than the regular sports   
program version. Shouts and cheers occasionally drifted into the   
bar area from the beach,the only reminder to Tom and Harry that   
they were not alone in the program. At that hour, the handful of   
crew using Holodeck Two were using the courts, not the tables in   
the restaurant.   
"I think you're probably right about the betting, Harry. We might   
see some action when you meet Tuvok for the all-Voyager Kal'toh   
championship, though. Too bad Seven isn't here to add a little   
drama. At least Icheb has been coming along well lately." Tom   
returned his attention to watching the tape, just in time to see   
a Klingon player fling the table across the room. The Kal'toh   
shimmered mid air and became a perfect sphere.   
"Ah, the Klingon gambit," Tom nodded slowly, like a wizened sage   
on a mountaintop.   
"As if you know anything about the game!" Harry snorted.   
"Don't need to know about 'the game.' I know 'Klingons.' Throwing   
things across a room is central to the culture. It's the way they   
do everything, Har."   
"I don't think throwing the table across the room is going to   
help me beat Tuvok in tonight's tournament."   
"Well, keep studying the tape. There's more highlights. And if   
that doesn't help, we'll put on the Olympics and see if some of   
those events help you. Javelin throw, maybe?"   
"Very funny, Tom," Harry said, as he turned the sound back on.   
M'tak's voice blared out. "And how can anyone forget the first   
elimination round back in May." The picture cut to a Ferengi and   
Rigellan player sitting under a wood shelter. "Tonk made a   
brilliant move." The Kal'toh shimmered as the Ferengi player   
deftly moved one of the pieces. Suddenly a sphere formed. "The   
judges ordered an examination of the tapes and discovered that   
Tonk had secretly added a piece. He was disqualified." The   
Ferengi player stood up and pulled a phaser on the judge.   
"A sorry piece of gamesmanship," Gary said as the image switched   
to another set of players. "The Ferengi government threatened to   
file a complaint, but considering the number of recent events   
involving Ferengi trying to steal Federation technology..."   
"Now to perhaps the finest move seen this season. Dr. Olivia   
Kowalski's gambit in the quarter finals," M'tak said.   
"Dr. Kowalski is from Baton Rouge on Earth," Gary said, "a   
theoretical mathematics professor at the university there. She   
discovered Kal'toh just five years ago and has been one of the   
leading players for the past three years. She claims Kal'toh is   
the purest math." The camera moved in to where her left hand   
hovered just above the pieces.   
"Pure math? I love math . . ." Harry leaned forward, avidly   
watching the screen. Suddenly, he shouted out excitedly, "She's   
got it now! And I see exactly what she's doing, Tom! Wow,   
what subtle geometry! That's it! I can beat him now, Tom! I can!   
This is my night! I know it!"   
"Uh, huh. I've heard that before. But every other time . . . "   
Tom's comm badge interrupted him. Tom answered it with alacrity.   
::::Lieutenant Paris? Miral has awakened from her nap.::::   
"Right there, Doc. Paris out." Tom picked up his PADD and took to   
his feet. "I'll be there to cheer you on, Harry, but right now   
I'm going to pick up my best little girl."   
"OK, Tom. Give her a kiss for me! See you tonight for the victory   
party."   
****   
As Tom strode down the corridor towards the Paris-Torres family   
quarters, his daughter babbling away in his ear, everyone he   
encountered spared a quick hello for him. Miral drew the bulk of   
the attention, however. She was the one to get a big wave, a   
funny face, or a "Hiya, there, Honey!" from the crew. Tom fondly   
remembered when the "Hiya, Honey's" were for Tom Paris, Ship   
Lothario--although that reputation was never as well deserved as   
most people still thought.   
He couldn't help feeling a slight touch of nostalgia for those   
days, but it was nothing compared to that which he was sure he   
would feel when the Voyager crew had scattered throughout the   
Alpha Quadrant. Only a few more jumps now. Soon, the camaraderie   
and feeling of community that had transformed him from a lonely,   
bitter ex-con who hid his despair behind a snarky sense of humor   
to a confident, responsible officer, husband, and father--albeit   
with his trademark quips and sarcasm still intact--all that would   
be gone. Although he knew most of the credit for the change in   
him was due to the faith the captain, B'Elanna, and Harry had had   
in him, in a very real way he owed the entire crew of Voyager,   
for the happiness and self-esteem he now enjoyed.   
And much of his reward for this was his daughter. Tom truly   
worshipped the deck upon which she would someday walk. Not that   
she hadn't begun to walk; she'd actually started taking steps   
several weeks before. But after that exciting beginning, Miral   
had become unexpectedly cautious about walking after taking a   
nasty fall and cutting her forehead on the corner of the coffee   
table the very next day. Ever since, Miral would take only three   
or four steps before grabbing onto a piece of furniture or a   
parent's leg.   
Tom had thought it understandable and was sure she'd come around   
fairly soon; but B'Elanna had become extremely worried. "Most   
Klingons are running around by the time they're seven months old.   
They never let a little bump on the head stop them."   
Tom had found this amusing for multiple reasons, most notably   
because B'Elanna, having made such a fuss about how Klingon their   
daughter might be before she was born, now was concerned Miral   
might not be Klingon enough! Needless to say, Tom had chosen to   
keep this particular observation to himself. He wasn't eager to   
find himself flung to the other side of the room.   
*   
As Tom and Miral entered their quarters, he said, "Hey!"   
in surprise.   
"Mama!" Miral cried out excitedly.   
"Hello, Sweeting." B'Elanna scooped Miral out of Tom's arms to   
give her daughter a quick hug before setting the squirming child   
down on the floor next to the table.   
'Talk about nostalgia,' Tom thought, experiencing the slight pang   
he always felt when hearing B'Elanna use the affectionate   
nickname Neelix had used for Kes. Tom never could quite bring   
himself to use it himself, even though the name was perfect for   
his little girl. But he said only, "Gee, don't I get a nice   
greeting, too?"   
"Sure, Helmboy. Nice shirt . . ."   
"Thanks," he said blandly, puckering up to accept the kiss she   
belatedly offered him. "I'm surprised you're home so early. Beta   
shift is only just beginning!"   
B'Elanna shrugged as she went back to setting the table for a   
quick, replicated meal. "I'm afraid to say it out loud, but   
everything went right for a change. No warp core breaches, no   
plasma coolant leaks, no readings outside of acceptable tolerance   
levels . . . I'd think my staff had fudged the data to get off on   
time for the tournament tonight, except I double-checked all the   
results myself. The ship is just about ready for the next jump   
the day after tomorrow. I figure we're due for a big emergency,   
right in the middle of the climactic part of the final, and Tuvok   
will still be champion."   
Tom groaned, "Don't even think that! No self-fulfilling   
prophecies tonight! Harry actually thinks he'll beat Tuvok this   
time!"   
"Delusions of grandeur, do you think?" B'Elanna laughed.   
"Well, he *has* improved a lot. Icheb and Vorik are both getting   
really good, too. And the law of averages is bound to catch up   
with Tuvok someday."   
"Maybe not. Who knows how much longer . . . Tom? Are you   
listening to me?"   
In a whisper, Tom said, "B'Elanna, look!"   
Miral had cruised around the table, barely touching the chairs,   
as she often did, but she hadn't stopped there. With her gaze   
fastened unwaveringly upon the toy targ sprawled on the floor   
at the far side of the room beside the couch, hesitantly at   
first, but then more quickly, Miral took a step, and then   
another and another, until she had practically run across the room.   
When she was close enough, she bent down to swipe at the toy with   
her hand. Overcompensating when she bent down to grab the targ, the   
child plopped down upon her cushioned bottom. Unperturbed, Miral   
sat on the floor, carefully tracing over her toy targ's facial   
features with an exploratory forefinger.   
"Miral! Honey, that was wonderful! You were running!" B'Elanna   
said, taking a step towards her daughter.   
Tom put out his arm and stopped her. "Wait, B'Elanna, let's see   
if we can get her to come back to us."   
Miral looked around at her parents, smiled a drooly grin, and   
then turned back to the targ and hauled it up by a back leg. With   
the unoccupied hand, Miral pulled on the edge of the couch,   
helping herself back on her feet.   
B'Elanna and Tom both crouched down and waved at Miral. "Come   
here, Miral! Come to Mommy and Daddy!"   
Miral squealed, apparently delighted by the funny way her parents   
were standing. Then, toy targ flopping with every step as it   
swung from side to side, she walked back the way she'd come,   
right into their beckoning arms.   
Dinner ended up being served late. The evening's planned   
entertainment was forgotten, replaced with two happy parents   
tossing a ball back and forth to their suddenly very   
mobile youngster.   
****   
"Welcome to the Eighth Annual Delta Quadrant Kal'toh Championship--   
except that since we're in the Beta Quadrant, I think we're going   
to have to change the name on the cup!" Janeway paused to permit   
the polite laughter to die down. "The eight participants seated   
before you now earned their places by their outstanding   
achievement in the preliminary matches. Please join me in   
saluting them, as well as all of the entrants for the entire   
tournament, for their efforts!"   
The applause was much more enthusiastic than the laughter for her   
weak joke had been, Janeway was glad to hear.   
"I regret I will not be able to remain for the entire match this   
evening. Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Kim, and Lieutenant Rollins   
were all scheduled to be on the bridge this evening, so Commander   
Chakotay and I are going to fill in for them." Janeway paused so   
the expected chorus of moans could end before her final words.   
"I wish all of you the best of luck this evening."   
Janeway took a step back as Megan Delaney, the officiating   
referee and tournament organizer, took her place. Megan cleared   
her throat before announcing, "I declare this tournament open.   
The matches begin . . . now!"   
The crowd drifted around the perimeter of the four tables where   
the participants were seated. Tuvok, as top seed, was facing Noah   
Lessing, who had finished in the eight spot. Harry was playing   
Rollins. Susan Nicoletti was contesting Vorik, not only for the   
ship championship, but also for bragging rights in engineering;   
while Icheb was across the table from Samantha Wildman. Naomi had   
confided mournfully to Janeway that she couldn't possibly enjoy   
their match, since she couldn't cheer for one without hurting the   
feelings of the other.   
With the attention of the crowd fixed upon the contestants, as   
was proper, Janeway felt she could slip away quietly to the   
doorway where her first officer was waiting patiently.   
At least, she assumed it was patiently, since she'd been afraid   
to meet his eyes while making her speech. At the door she looked   
up, saw that devastating grin of his, and pursed her lips to hold   
in her laughter until after they'd passed out of the corridor and   
into the turbolift. As the door closed, she poked him in the ribs   
and murmured, "Don't say it!"   
"Say what, Captain? About how sorry I am about making you miss   
the Kal'toh tournament?"   
"Oh, please . . . I actually enjoy playing the game, even though   
Tuvok flattens my ego every time he beats me--which is every time   
we 'compete.' But to watch others play? It's excruciating."   
"I'd rather watch paint dry, myself."   
"I'd rather do inventory. Truly. At least that's a constructive   
use of one's time!"   
"Well, Kathryn, after our bridge duty is over, I'm sure I can   
find something for us to inventory."   
She cocked an eyebrow. "Really? I thought we could 'read a   
few reports' together; but if you'd prefer an inventory, I   
could be persuaded. What did you have in mind?"   
The turbolift door opened, saving him from having to answer in   
any way but with his most wicked smile. She didn't really mind,   
though. She knew he'd more than make up for it later.   
***   
Tom entered the holodeck first, before B'Elanna who was carrying   
a squirming Miral in her arms. Suddenly confident in her ability   
to get around, Miral had been unwilling to remain still in either   
of their arms the entire trip to the holodeck. She wanted to be   
down on her own two feet, no doubt running amuck throughout the   
ship. 'Careful what you wish for, indeed,' Tom thought.   
Quickly surveying the room before tapping B'Elanna on the   
shoulder, Tom whispered, "Hey, look, B'Elanna. If Vulcans could   
sweat . . ."   
"Certainly looks like it! Nobody else is playing. This must be   
the final. I thought the captain and Chakotay would be here for   
this."   
"Maybe they're 'reading reports' again."   
"Tom!" B'Elanna murmured warningly, but with a smirk of   
appreciation.   
Tom relented. "Actually, they're on the bridge, covering for   
Harry and Tuvok."   
"Ah. Right. I'd forgotten. Look, there's Icheb, standing next to   
Naomi and Sam Wildman. I wonder how far he got?"   
"Iggy!" Miral called out, drawing the young man's attention   
towards the door.   
Stepping away from the first rank of observers around the   
central table, where Tuvok and Harry were seated across from each   
other, Icheb brushed by Naomi and approached the family. "Where   
were you, Tom? I wondered if something had happened when you   
didn't come."   
"Something did happen--nothing bad," Tom hastened to add, "but   
it did hold us up. I was hoping you'd still be playing when we   
got here."   
"I did quite well, but Lieutenant Kim defeated me in the   
semi-finals. Vorik lost to Commander Tuvok in the other match."   
"I'm sorry we missed it, Icheb."   
"It's all right, Tom."   
"How's Harry doing against Tuvok?" B'Elanna asked Icheb as   
she shifted Miral from one arm to the other so she was closer   
to her uncle "Iggy."   
"Extremely well. He has an excellent chance of winning," Icheb   
replied with a smile as Miral launched herself into his arms and   
gave him a kiss on the cheek. "He's playing a brilliant game   
tonight."   
"Thank Dr. Kowalski," Tom said.   
"I am unfamiliar with the name."   
"Earth mathematician. Harry watched a vid of her game in the   
championships."   
"Interesting," Icheb replied as he handed Miral back to B'Elanna.   
"I shall endeavour to see this vid."   
"Come by for dinner tomorrow and we'll show it to you," Tom said.   
"We've got something else to show you, too," B'Elanna added,   
beaming as she set Miral down on the floor a few paces in back of   
them. "Go on, Honey! Let Uncle Icheb see what you can do."   
As Icheb reacted to Miral's solo approach, Naomi and Sam turned   
around to see why he'd said, "Bravo!" Within seconds, other   
members of the crew had turned their backs to the game. Miral   
walked from one person to another, grabbing hold of a knee or two   
but never losing her balance while her proud parents looked on.   
The pride turned to concern a minute later. "B'Elanna, do you see   
Miral? I can't find her in that forest of legs around Harry and   
Tuvok's table."   
"No, I can't. We'd better find her. I don't want her to get hurt   
again!"   
***   
Tuvok slipped the metallic sliver into the construct, causing it   
to shiver as it folded itself into another beautiful shape.   
Harry's lips twisted into a broad grin. He picked up a Kal'toh   
piece and tapped it on his palm absently. From the way Harry's   
eyes moved over the shape before him, Tuvok could tell he had   
already selected the place he intended to place it into the game.   
Finally he did so; the Kal'toh board swelled up and changed   
again, not into a perfect sphere, but into one of the precursors.   
Tuvok knew this particular precursor lead to its creator winning   
a Kal'toh match within the next ten moves 74.95% of the time,   
unless the opponent--Tuvok--did something truly foolish to make   
the shape collapse. There would be no benefit in that, of course.   
If the design collapsed due to a poor move on his part, Harry Kim   
would also win his first Kal'toh tournament, this time by   
default.   
It might not matter. Tuvok also knew he did not have a   
defense for the move Harry was contemplating. A certain number of   
steps would need to be taken to complete the game. Unfortunately,   
Tuvok could see no shortcut by which he could intervene to "swoop   
in," as Mr. Paris might say, to be the one to complete the   
design--unless Mr. Kim made a mistake. Mr. Kim had made very few   
of those this evening.   
No, it was not looking favorable for Tuvok at that moment. To   
make matters worse, Tuvok's usually keen powers of concentration   
were being sorely tested by a commotion in the crowd to his   
right. At times like these, sharp Vulcan hearing was not   
necessarily an asset.   
Upon reviewing all of the options open to him, Tuvok selected a   
piece and reluctantly inserted it into the Kal'toh design. As the   
shape swelled up, the crowd around him erupted in a loud "Ah."   
Tuvok's expectations where not as high as the audience's,   
however. Momentarily spherical, the Kal'toh construct coalesced   
into another ovoid form.   
Stifling a sigh at his opponent's immediate grin, Tuvok set his   
elbow on the table, heedless of the game piece which slipped off   
its edge. The sound of the small Kal'toh piece landing upon the   
floor was muffled by the nervous shuffling of booted feet which   
was sufficient to drown out the buzz of the watchers. Tuvok was   
not concerned about dropped item. The game would be over long   
before he would need it.   
Harry made his move, to another set of "ahs" from the crowd. The   
end of Tuvok's reign as the champion Kal'toh player on Voyager   
was about to end. Soothing himself into calmness, Tuvok reflected   
upon the fact that eight years as unbeaten champion was a record   
none of his colleagues could have bested, even if Voyager's   
journey were to last another eight years. With slow, stately   
motions, he inserted a game piece. The change was minimal.   
The coup de grace must be only moments away.   
Harry contained himself with difficulty. In his moment of triumph   
he glanced around the table, making eye contact with Ensign   
Marla Gilmore as he picked up a game piece with a flourish. Harry   
moved his hand towards an opening in the side of the design,   
smiling confidently.   
But another hand suddenly emerged from beneath the table--a pudgy   
little fist which gripped the fallen Kal'toh stick, glimmering   
with an additional sheen as if it had been licked by a curious   
tongue. In paralyzed fascination, Tuvok watched the tip of the   
piece glide neatly into the hole that he, and, he was certain,   
Lieutenant Harry Kim would have used to finish the game. It was,   
however, not at the precise angle the Vulcan would have chosen,   
although it was surprisingly close.   
The stunned "ohs" from the crowd became groans as the construct   
expanded into a perfect sphere for a tantalizing second before an   
unusual spark, like that of an electrical short circuit, snapped   
out of the shape in the vicinity of the final Kal'toh piece's   
introduction. The construct immediately contracted and collapsed   
into a pile of metallic splinters.   
"No!!!!" Harry howled in frustration. "I was going to win! I had   
the championship won! Tuvok! You know I should have won!"   
The Vulcan leaned back in his chair, conscious of a pair of small   
arms clutching at his knee at the moment of Mr. Kim's outburst.   
Tuvok's brow furrowed as he steepled his fingers in front of his   
face. "You may well have won if you had played your piece. But by   
the rules of Kal'toh, each move must be completed in alternating   
order--by the participants--or the game is forfeit. In this case,   
the entire game has been nullified by an outside agent."   
"No!" Harry cried out again, as Marla patted his shoulder   
consolingly.   
"Don't worry, Harry, there's always next time," B'Elanna said   
distractedly as she tried to look beneath the table top. "Have   
you seen my daughter? She must be here somewhere."   
Harry ignored B'Elanna's question. "Tomorrow! Yes! Tuvok, I   
demand a rematch! Tomorrow . . ."   
"I do not believe we will have the time for another tournament   
tomorrow, Lieutenant," Tuvok stated solemnly as he carefully   
maneuvered Miral out from beneath the table, his hand cushioning   
the top of her head to protect it from another unfortunate   
encounter with a tabletop. "However, if you wish, I will speak to   
the captain about scheduling another in a few more weeks."   
"A few more weeks! We might be home by then!" Harry moaned.   
"I will discuss it with Captain Janeway." From the tone   
of Tuvok's voice, it was clear that the subject was closed.   
"But . . ." Harry sputtered.   
"Harry, you're not being a very good example here," Tom clucked,   
carefully emptying his daughter's hands of the three Kal'toh   
pieces she had liberated from the playing surface. "We can talk   
to the captain about it tomorrow."   
Harry slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in defeat,   
while the crowd began to drift away--a lucky few collecting on   
bets which had stated Tuvok would "remain Voyager's Kal'toh   
champion" without specifying he would actually win the match.   
Tom and B'Elanna squatted next to their daughter. "That wasn't   
very nice of you, Miral," Tom admonished gently. "I never thought   
you'd start playing Kal'toh before you try out some easier games,   
like . . ."   
"Like poker?" Mulcahey called out with a laugh.   
"Actually, I was going to say Pick-Up Sticks," Tom replied, with   
an amused glance in Mulcahey's direction before addressing his   
daughter again. "But you're even pretty young for that!"   
"That may be," Tuvok said, as he also crouched down next to   
the ship's youngest inhabitant. "However, I believe I must find   
an opportunity to begin your first lessons in Kal'toh very soon,   
Miral Torres Paris. It may be some time before you are able to   
successfully complete a Klingon Gambit move, but clearly, you   
are a 'natural.' "   
Miral answered him with a loud screech of joy.   
Tuvok nodded in agreement. "Indeed."   
  
FIN   
  
Next: In the Trenches the routine of spaceflight, resupplying, and an old ruin. 


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